“You are not; but when one’s dearest hopes are at stake, it is sometimes hard to speak of them,” Rupert answered, gravely; then added, frankly: “Mrs. Alexander, you must have suspected ere this how fondly I love your daughter. I have loved her ever since our meeting on that California trip last winter, and I have only been waiting for your sanction to my suit to open my heart to her. I hoped to see you last spring on my return to New York, but you had left the city and I could not learn your address. I then resolved to seek you again at the end of the summer, but you were still absent when I came back the last of September. You can, perhaps, imagine something of my disappointment—I may even say despair——when I found that I must return to England with no hope of confessing my love to Virgie. I do not need to tell you that I experienced a sudden ecstasy when I discovered that you were both on the same vessel with me and bound for the same port, and I could not have remained silent as long as I have, had it not been for the illness which kept my dear one a prisoner in her berth during our voyage. I know that I am, comparatively, a stranger to you, but you are so situated now that you can easily ascertain whether what I have to offer Virgie—a true heart, an untarnished name, and all that I have of this world’s goods—is worthy of her acceptance. Mrs. Alexander, will you give me leave to try to win her?” CHAPTER XIV. THE BETROTHAL. Mrs. Alexander smiled at the young lover’s ardor, while she regarded his handsome, earnest face with a look almost of affection. “Mr. Hamilton,” she said, as he concluded, “to be frank with you, I must tell you that I have been expecting a request of this nature from you.” Rupert looked a trifle surprised at this declaration.